


For fond love and for shame

by Lleu



Category: Newsies (1992)
Genre: First Kiss, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-03
Updated: 2015-07-03
Packaged: 2018-04-07 12:15:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4262949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lleu/pseuds/Lleu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>     <i>For, wrung all on love’s rack,</i><br/>     <i>My lad, and lost in Jack,</i><br/>     <i>Smiled, blushed, and bit his lip; ...</i></p>
<p>The first time Jack kisses him, Crutchy thinks he (Jack) must have made a mistake. Either that or he hasn’t woken up from the dream he was having last night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For fond love and for shame

**Author's Note:**

> Title and epigraph from Gerard Manley Hopkins's poem "Brothers", which I've already used but which was far too good to pass up. Thanks to E. for betaing.

The first time Jack kisses him, Crutchy thinks he (Jack) must have made a mistake. Either that or he hasn’t woken up from the dream he was having last night.

It’s a brief moment, and Crutchy’s sure he's ruined it: his mouth and lips are dry, he’s slightly off-balance, and his crutch is getting in the way, stopping Jack from pulling him close, which he’s fairly sure is what you’re supposed to do when you kiss someone.

It’s not Jack’s first kiss: he knows that. It’s not even Jack’s first time kissing a boy, he doesn’t think, although he’s never been able to get Jack to confirm one way or another. Not that they talk about it, really. It came up once, when they were out late one night, looking up at the moon, mostly hidden behind clouds, and at the handful of stars visible in the Manhattan sky. Jack was quieter than usual; thinking about Santa Fe, Crutchy suspected.

“Penny for your thoughts, Jack?”

“Aw, Crutchy, you shouldn’t waste your money on me,” Jack said with a laugh.

_Wouldn’t be wasting_ , Crutchy thought, but he wasn’t sure he should say it aloud.

“You ever kiss a girl, Crutchy?” Jack asked, after a long pause.

Crutchy felt his heart start to beat a little faster. “Nah, Jack; you know you’d be the first to know if I had.”

He looked at Jack out of the corner of his eye and saw that he was smiling slightly. “Do you want to?”

That stopped him short, and the fact that it did answered the question, really.

“Who _do_ you want to kiss?” Jack asked. Crutchy risked looking at him, but couldn’t bring himself to answer. Jack smiled his most disarming smile: “It’s all right; I get it.”

All he could do to answer was to nod quickly. Neither of them said anything for a while, and then their conversation turned back to usual things.

The actual kiss, when it happens, is totally unexpected. Crutchy’s leg has been bothering him, so they spend a lazy evening, first at Medda’s theater and then strolling (Jack always ready to lend a shoulder to lean on, Crutchy always — almost always — too proud to accept) to the rooftop that Jack refers to as “my place”.

(This is before David — not that Crutchy blames David; it was never going to last. Later, when things are complicated, after Jack has — he hates himself for thinking it but does anyway — failed him, abandoned him, he will think: _we were so young_. Just sixteen and seventeen, drunk on warm night air and the smoky atmosphere of Medda’s hall, with a little help from the beer she’d given them. Crutchy only ever drinks when he’s with Jack.)

It happens suddenly, as they emerge onto the roof. Jack stops, turns to him. He’s got a look on his face that Crutchy’s never seen before.

“You okay, Jack?”

And then: Jack leans over and kisses him. It’s dry, and scratchy, — Jack needs a shave — and awkward; Crutchy almost has to drop his crutch to make room for Jack’s body, which is suddenly next to him. Then, just as suddenly, it’s over.

“I’m sorry,” Crutchy says when Jack pulls away.

“What for?” Jack asks, looking almost as stunned as Crutchy feels.

“I don’t know,” he says. “I just feel like I probably let you down, seeing as how that was my first kiss and I had no idea what I was doing.”

“Oh, Crutchy,” Jack says, smiling now. “No, you did fine. Maybe lick your lips a little first next time, though.”

“I would’ve if I’d known you was going to kiss me,” Crutchy says ruefully.

Jack smiles again. “How’s this: Crutchy, I’m going to kiss you.”

His heart is pounding now. As instructed, he carefully licks his lips. “Okay, Jack. I’m ready.”

Then Jack kisses him again, and this time it’s better; he can see why people like doing this. More kisses follow, that night and after, until just before David shows up, the end of July, 1899, and the Newsboys Union of Lower Manhattan votes to strike. Kisses at Jack’s place, of course, and kisses, occasionally, elsewhere as well, when they’re sure of their privacy.

But that first kiss, dry and scratchy and awkward under the night sky in the middle of May, is the one he’ll always remember.


End file.
